


Up in the Air

by LadyLibby



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Romance, Serial Killers, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: Ever since joining the BAU, you’ve had the sense that Hotch doesn’t trust you. But one night, after a tough case, you accidentally fall asleep on his shoulder. After that, things start to change between you and the surly SSA...
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You
Comments: 22
Kudos: 189
Collections: JJBA





	Up in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> The initial idea was falling asleep on Hotch on the jet. That very rapidly turned into something else. I hope you enjoy!

The first time it happened, it was an accident. You really didn’t mean to. You were just  _ so tired.  _

The team was coming back from a case in Albuquerque— a serial killer. She had been targeting other women in the area, all mothers heavily involved in their church. It took almost five days to track her down. The initial profile was right on the nose: sexual sadist and abuse survivor with religious trauma. But while the team and the local police were out searching for a man, the real unsub managed to kidnap another woman. You’d found them just moments before she took another victim. 

You’d barely slept the whole time, running on coffee and the need to catch the unsub before anyone else got hurt. The exhaustion didn’t hit you until you got on the jet. 

Reid immediately flopped down onto one of the couches to sleep. You watched with envy, settling at the table next to the window. You wanted nothing more than to sleep, but you couldn’t. 

Flying had always made you anxious, ever since you were a little kid. Your mind would get twisted up with all the ways it could go wrong and how little you could do to stop it. As you grew older, and especially now that you fly all the time with the BAU, you’ve learned to manage it. You’ve developed habits and coping mechanisms to keep the nerves in check. 

The most effective one was distraction. Listening to music, doing paperwork, playing cards with Emily, swapping theories with the rest of the team, it all kept your mind occupied and calm. If you tried to sleep, visions of engines exploding or the plane crashing into a city somewhere would emerge and you’d not only still be awake, but also terrified. 

So you set some paperwork down on the table, getting to work once the jet was safely soaring through the sky. 

The cabin was quiet, Reid and Emily both sleeping on the long sofas while JJ and Morgan sat in the seats across from you, Morgan listening to music while JJ read. Rossi and Hotch talked quietly near the partition that led to the cockpit. 

When they finished, Hotch turned and moved back down the small aisle. You watched him for a moment, your sleep-deprived brain making your gaze linger on him longer than you’d usually allow yourself. 

You always found Hotch distracting. And intimidating. He was capable and serious and experienced and...tall. Very distracting. Usually, when you weren’t so exhausted, you were able to ignore it. 

Hotch met your gaze and you looked away quickly, blinking down at your paperwork. You rubbed your eyes, telling yourself to get it together. 

You stared resolutely at the page in front of you, but you didn’t comprehend any of the words because the seat next to you was suddenly occupied. 

“You should get some rest.” 

Turning your head, you met his signature serious expression, well-suited to his position— SSA Aaron Hotchner, highly skilled profiler and FBI agent. Very intimidating. And distracting. 

“I’m fine,” you waved him off, forcing your gaze back to your work. 

“You’ve barely slept since we left Quantico.” He pressed. 

“I got an hour or two the day before yesterday.” You said, smiling. “I’m all set.” 

Hotch didn’t find that very funny, which you probably should have anticipated. He pressed his lips together, watching you carefully. It was the only look he seemed to fix on you—not quite profiling but discerning, careful and serious and slightly reserved. Like he was keeping something from you. Like he didn’t quite trust you. 

Hotch always looked at you like that. Not that he looked at you much in general. He generally seemed to avoid you. Sure, he didn’t get personal with anyone else on the team either, but he kept a particular distance away from you. 

You had no idea why. You wished you could fix whatever you’d done to make him dislike you, but no matter what you did, he always looked at you the same way. 

Clearing your throat, you shifted a little in your seat. “Seriously, I’m fine.” 

Hotch didn’t say anything else. He seemed to give in, pulling out a few files of his own and setting them on the table. 

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, you dug your headphones out and put on some calming music, trying your best to ignore both Hotch and your anxiety. 

After reading the same line over and over again without remembering what it said, you gave up on the paperwork. You shut the file and turned up the music a bit, turning to look out the window. 

It was late afternoon when you left New Mexico, the sky turning darker as you flew into nighttime in the East. Exhaustion pulled heavily on your body, weighing everything down. You let your head lean against the headrest. 

Your mind getting fuzzy, your head lolled to the side and your eyes fell slowly shut. You drifted off, feeling a bit like you were dropping slowly into oblivion. 

You awoke to the sound of your name, spoken softly beside your ear. 

Blinking slowly, you pulled yourself back out of unconsciousness. As your eyes focused, you realized the world was sideways. 

You shifted, sitting up straight again. “What—”

“We’re back.” You realized the voice was Hotch, still sitting next to you. 

The rest of the team was already gone, leaving the jet empty apart from you and Hotch. 

Suddenly, you snapped awake, eyes widening. The world had been sideways because you’d leaned over in your sleep and your head had hit his shoulder.

You’d fallen asleep on Aaron Hotchner. 

He was looking at you with that look again, although there was something different about his eyes as he gazed at you. Probably contemplating whether to fire you on the spot or to wait until tomorrow. 

“I’m so sorry, sir.” You said quickly, swiping a hand over your mouth, internally sighing in relief when you found no drool. “I didn’t—that was really unprofessional. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Hotch waved his hand, dismissing the apology as he got out of his seat. You scrambled to get out after him, hoping to escape the jet as quickly as possible. 

“Are you alright to get home?” 

“What?” You blinked, caught off-guard by the question. 

“You only slept for three hours.” Hotch explained, “Are you alright driving?” 

“Oh.” You pulled the strap of your back over your shoulder, heading for the door. “I take the Metro.” 

Hotch followed you out, scowling. “It’s late.” 

“Yeah.” You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering if you were still asleep and dreaming this bizarre conversation. “I do it all the time. I’ll be fine.” 

“I’ll have an agent drive you.” He insisted, putting a hand on your arm to stop you as he looked around for someone to flag down. 

“Hotch, I’m really okay—”

“I can take her.” 

You turned, seeing JJ with her car keys in her hand. 

“It’ll be faster than the train.” She said. “And I’m headed that direction anyway.”

You glanced at Hotch, deciding it was better not to argue with him. Better not give him any more reasons to dislike you. 

“Okay,” you agreed, walking towards JJ. “Thanks JJ.” 

“No problem.” She smiled, “Goodnight, Hotch.” 

Hotch nodded, “Goodnight.” 

You mumbled a quiet goodbye, wanting to escape the stern look he was giving you. You were relieved to get into JJ’s car, trying not to notice that Hotch had waited until he saw you pull out of the lot before even moving from where he stood. 

As JJ turned onto the road and left Quantico behind, you let out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“You alright?” JJ asked, glancing at you. 

“How pissed was he?” 

“What?” 

“Hotch.” You said, fidgeting with your hands. “When I fell asleep on him. He must have been pissed.” 

“No,” JJ smiled slightly, miffed at the suggestion. “Hotch wasn’t mad. He just sort of worked around you. And he made sure Morgan and I weren’t too loud so you could sleep. It was kinda sweet, actually.” 

“Really?” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“I am.” You said, dumbfounded. “I thought—I mean, Hotch doesn’t like me.” 

“What are you talking about? Of course he likes you. He’s just...Hotch.” 

“But he avoids me. And he always looks at me like—like he thinks I’m going to do something. Like he doesn’t trust me or something.” 

JJ hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe he doesn’t trust himself.” 

“What?” 

“Never mind. Forget it.” She shook her head. “I think that’s the sleep deprivation talking. Just...he does like you. You wouldn’t be on the team if he didn’t.” 

“Yeah…” You turned, looking out at the dark Virginia night. 

You thought about the way Hotch had looked at you on the jet after you woke up. His eyes had been different, less guarded. For a second, you thought maybe you saw affection in them. 

But that was probably the sleep deprivation talking. 

~

The jet was quiet. Not the peaceful quiet that came while everyone else slept off a successful case. 

No, this was the quiet that was only caused by sorrow. Guilt and regret and self-loathing that swirled around inside all of you. 

The case was a series of kidnappings in Oregon. Kids were taken off the street in broad daylight. Their bodies were found later, naked and mutilated. 

The unsub covered his tracks so well you had barely anything to build the profile on.

Then he started devolving, making enough mistakes for the team to establish a trail. He took another kid, but in sight of the child’s friends, who were able to describe the unsub to you. 

But when you finally found him, it was too late. 

And now you couldn’t get the image of his mother’s face out of your mind after you’d told her the horrible news. She’d completely broken down, consumed with grief and anger. 

Which she directed at you. 

“This is your fault!” She’d screamed, “If you’d done your job my little boy would still be alive!” 

You’d just stood there, frozen with guilt and anguish until her husband stepped in between you and tried to comfort her while Morgan grabbed your arm and pulled you away. 

As you sat down on the jet, taking a seat as far away as possible from the rest of the team, her voice echoed in your mind, reverberating with all the negative emotions crowding your chest. 

_ This is your fault.  _

After almost a year with the BAU, you’ve had your fair share of hard cases. But this one was one of the worst. This was one that made you question if you could stay with the BAU, if it was worth all the stress and pain and loss. 

Curling up in your seat, you held your head in your hands as the jet’s engine rumbled to life and the plane taxied down the runway. For once, your anxiety about the flight was overshadowed by the shitstorm of emotions already raging within you. 

Once the jet reached cruising altitude and it was safe to move around, you heard the telltale sound of someone sitting down in the seat across from you. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumbled, not looking up.

You didn’t want to face JJ’s attempts to comfort you yet. Somehow, her sympathy just made you feel worse. 

“Morgan told me what happened.” 

Your head snapped up, meeting Hotch’s deep brown eyes. He looked at you, mouth set in a serious line– not quite scowling, but close enough to send dread pooling in your stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No,” He held up his hand to stop you, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize.” 

“But–” 

“This wasn’t your fault.” 

“Hotch,” You breathed. “Those kids…” 

His expression softened, sadness and understanding passing behind his eyes. “I know.” 

“If I had just–” 

“Worked faster? Harder?” Hotch supplied, frowning again. “You did everything you could.” 

“It wasn’t enough.” Your vision blurred with unshed tears, your voice breaking against the lump in your throat. “It wasn’t enough to save him.”

“No,” He agreed, looking away for a moment before turning back to you. “But it was enough to save all the other kids he would have preyed on. He won’t be able to hurt anyone else.  _ You _ did that.” 

You held his gaze, feeling a small speck of hope expanding among the despair. 

“You’re a good agent.” Hotch said, the set of his mouth softening into something almost like a smile. “One of the best I’ve ever seen. Don’t let this knock you down.” 

Blinking away your tears, you took a deep breath. “Thank you.” 

For a moment you thought he might be about to say something else, his gaze more open with you than it had ever been before. But he didn’t. He just nodded, setting his jaw back into its straight line and standing up from his seat. 

“Try and get some rest.” He said before heading over to talk with Rossi. 

You turned to look out the window, knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep. Still, you felt a bit more at ease than you had before. 

The case had shaken you, but you wouldn’t let it knock you down. 

~

Whenever you’d start feeling nervous about flying, one of the best ways you could calm yourself down was to rationalize yourself away from the fear. As Reid would be more than happy to tell you, a crash was statistically unlikely. Since joining the BAU you hadn’t encountered anything close to a crisis with the plane.

Until now. 

Everything was going well at first. The case had been successfully closed, a kidnapping in Chicago ended with the three victims returned home safely while the unsub headed for a lifetime in federal prison. You’d even had time to visit Morgan’s childhood home, meeting his mother and sisters before wheels up. She was delighted with you, asking all kinds of questions about the BAU that Morgan clearly didn’t want answered. You tried to deflect, smiling and charming as best you could. 

“Thanks again for running interference back there,” Morgan said, tapping your shoulder affectionately with his fist as he stepped up beside you at the coffee cart on one end of the cabin. “I should take you with me on all my trips home from now on.” 

“And risk the wrath of Penelope Garcia?” You raised an eyebrow at him, throwing out your empty teacup. “No thank you.” 

Morgan laughed, pouring himself a cup of coffee. As you turned to go back to your seat, your eyes met a familiar amber gaze. Hotch smiled slightly, looking back down at his paperwork. 

Your chest tightened, mostly with pride, and you looked around to see if anyone else had noticed that you had managed to get Hotch to smile. They were all occupied, Reid and Emily playing chess while JJ and Rossi talked about a case file together. You shrugged it off, just knowing you’d made him smile was enough for you. 

And it wasn’t the first time. Things had been warming up between you and your surly SSA lately. He’d been avoiding you less, trusting you more. Hotch asked you to come along with him to the crime scene instead of keeping you at the precinct with Reid for the geographical profile or sending you or to interview a suspect with Emily or Morgan. When Jack had to come into the office with him, Hotch didn’t seem to mind when you’d sat with him in the conference room with a bunch of coloring books. 

When he looked at you, it was more open, more trusting. But Hotch was still holding something back. Whenever he was with you, you could sense that he was somehow restrained, carefully controlling what he said. 

But if things had already improved between the two of you, you believed you’d get him to trust you eventually. You wanted him to trust you. 

You wanted him to do a lot of other things too, things that you really shouldn’t want from your boss. 

Before your mind could wander further down that path, the jet suddenly began to shake. The cabin shook, the movement sharp and erratic enough that you stumbled, grabbing onto the nearest seatback you could reach. You couldn’t help the terrified gasp that left your lips as the lights flickered and then turned off completely. 

A million thoughts flooded your brain, all of them panicked, and none of them coherent. You tried to stay upright, the tremors of the jet threatening to send you sprawling across the floor. 

Panic began to cloud your vision, your breath coming in short gasps as you struggled to keep your grasp on rational thought. Dimly, you realized you were having a panic attack. The plane shook violently and you cried out. 

Then someone was next to you, their arms wrapping around you and their chest pressed against your side as they kept you from falling.

“I’ve got you.”

It was Hotch, you realized, guiding you to sit in one of the plush seats. You shuffled along with him, clinging gripping desperately at the lapel of his suit jacket as you dropped into a chair.

You were trying to keep your breath under control, but you were getting closer to hyperventilating by the second, your mind spiralling with images of the plane exploding or crashing or any number of horrible things. 

Having secured your seatbelt, Hotch peeled your hands away from his chest, gripping your hands in his own. The plane continued to rattle, turbulence shaking everything.

“Look at me.” 

You couldn’t. 

“Y/N, look at me.” Hotch repeated, his voice deeper, more authoritative. He was giving you an order. You turned your head, your wide, panicked eyes meeting his own. 

“Breathe.” He said. “You need to breathe.” 

You nodded quickly, trying to slow your breathing. Then the lights flickered off completely, making your anxiety spike again. 

“Hey, you’re going to be okay.” Hotch said, squeezing your hand. 

You squeezed his hands back, probably harder than you should have, tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“Hotch–” 

“Just keep looking at me. Focus on me.” He said, voice deep and calm despite everything, “I’ve got you. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You just have to breathe for me, okay? Breathe, Y/N.” 

You took one long, shaking breath, holding his gaze.

“That’s it. You’re doing great, Y/N.” He said. “Keep breathing. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” 

Putting all your focus into your breath, into the deep sincerity and solidity of Hotch’s gaze, the rest of the world slipped away. All you saw was him, all you heard was the sound of your breath, in and out, in and out. 

And then it was over. 

The plane finally stilled, quiet settling across the cabin. The lights flickered back on and the intercom buzzed as the pilot’s voice came through. 

“Sorry about that, everyone. We had a bit of turbulence there, which has now passed. Should be another hour of smooth sailing before touchdown at Quantico.” 

You blinked, finally looking away from Hotch as you came back into reality. The rest of the team chattered and laughed in relief behind you, quickly returning to normal. When you turned back, Hotch was still looking at you, studying your face carefully. 

“You okay?” 

Exhaling shakily once more, you nodded. “Hotch I–” 

“If you’re about to apologize, don’t.” 

Cheeks burning, you changed course. “Thank you. You...you didn’t have to do that.” 

Embarrassment twisted in your stomach at having revealed one of your biggest weaknesses, one of your biggest secrets to someone you so badly wanted to impress. You pulled your hands from Hotch’s grip awkwardly, looking away again. You took another deep breath, still feeling the residual weight of fear alongside your shame. 

Your gaze snapped quickly to your hand as Hotch took it in his again, his larger palm covering yours. 

“Yes, I did.” He said, his expression more open than you’d ever seen it. 

You stared at him, trapped in the amber of his eyes. Hotch leaned every so slightly forward, preparing to say something. 

“I–” he began, hesitating as his hand tightened on yours, “You’re important. To me.”

Hotch stopped, frowning. You had the sense it wasn’t what he’d intended to say, but he didn’t continue or try to clarify. 

“You’re important to me too.” You squeezed his hand. 

Hotch looked away, but you could still see the ghost of a smile on his lips. He cleared his throat, looking back with his usual professional seriousness. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes, sir.” You smiled softly. 

“Good.” He nodded, squeezing your hand one more time before letting go. 

As he stood, presumably to sit somewhere else, your heart sank and your stomach twisted with dread. 

“Hotch, wait.” 

He froze immediately, looking down at you with concern. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, fidgeting with the belt across your lap. 

“Do you think...you could, um,” You tentatively looked up, finally making eye contact. “Stay?”

His expression softened again and he nodded, sitting back down beside you. 

“Of course.” 

~

The second time it happened, it was on purpose. But it was under all the wrong circumstances. 

For once, you were just too tired to worry about the flight. You were too tired to care about professionalism or rules or lines you shouldn’t cross. You were too tired and too hurt to let any of that stop you from leaning your head against Hotch’s shoulder and falling asleep. 

And he was too rattled to focus on anything but you. 

The BAU had headed out to Colorado to catch a serial killer who preyed on hikers on the trails, specifically women of your build, hair color, and age. As the team and the local sheriff’s department closed in on the unsub, sending you in as bait was a no-brainer. 

For everyone except Hotch. 

It took nearly ten minutes of arguing and then giving into all of his added stipulations– a body cam and mic, a bulletproof vest under your coat, and a team of officers ready to step in the second the unsub showed – for him to begrudgingly agree. 

But the unsub didn’t show. Not until you’d trekked far past where the backup team were stationed, not until your mic started getting patchy and you couldn’t hear Hotch yelling at you to get out of there. By then, it was too late. 

Looking back, you wouldn’t have changed it. The sight of your gear threw the unsub off, making him get sloppy and careless and allowing the team to find you before he could hurt you...worse. As it was, you were sporting some nasty scrapes and bruises from where he’d hit you and dragged you through the dirt to his cabin.

The worst of it was internal. 

You were exhausted from the whole ordeal, but you knew that would be gone after you slept for a while. And then the bruises would heal. But the sound of the unsub’s voice, his twisted threats, and his wild desperate eyes, those would haunt you for a long, long time to come. 

The only thing that made it feel better, made you hope you might be able to handle it, was the feeling of Hotch’s hand on your arm, his chest pressed against your back as he guided you carefully onto the jet and safely into a seat.

You knew the others were watching you, curious about the two of you, but knowing better than to approach. 

Hotch had been the first one to reach you, untying your hands and feet and pulling you against his chest. You’d held onto him for dear life, finally breaking down as the warm security of his embrace surrounded you. 

He hadn’t let you out of his sight since. Hell, he’d barely let you out of his grasp long enough for the EMTs to check you over. Everyone who came close was subjected to his most deadly glare. 

“Do you need anything?” His gaze softened as he looked at you, sitting down next to you. “Water? Tea?” 

“I’m okay,” You said, your eyelids heavy. “I just want to sleep.” 

Hotch nodded, his mouth set in a worried grimace. He shifted, taking off his suit jacket and tucking it carefully around you like a blanket. 

“Come here,” He said softly, lifting his arm. 

You were too tired to fully process what was happening or to protest, so you shifted closer. Hotch wrapped his arm around you, tucking you against his chest with your head resting in the crook of his neck. 

You were asleep before the plane took off. 

You awoke again, hours later, to the sound of Hotch’s voice saying your name. His hand rubbed up and down your back, gently coaxing you out of your slumber. You sat up, sleepily meeting his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like I could sleep for another hundred years,” You said, rubbing your eyes. 

Once again, you were the last ones left on the jet, the others all already gone. 

Hotch pressed his lips together, loosening his grip on you. “Let’s get you home.” 

You groaned slightly at the thought of your commute. “I can’t face the train. Can I just sleep in your office for a few hours? I’ll lock up when—” 

“No,” Hotch furrowed his brow. “I’m taking you home.” 

“What?” You blinked. “No. What about Jack?” 

“I already called, his aunt will stay with him until I get back.” Hotch said. 

As you got to your feet, Hotch stood with you, his hand falling to the small of your back. You turned back toward him when you stepped into the aisle, holding his jacket out for him. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” 

“Keep it for now,” He said, grabbing both your go-bags. “It’s cold.” 

You didn’t argue, putting it on. The sleeves were an inch or two too long, and you felt a bit like a child playing pretend. But as you stepped out onto the tarmac, you focused on how warm the jacket was. You pulled it tighter around yourself, comforted by the smell of Hotch that surrounded you. 

Neither of you said anything as you got into the car, Hotch turning the key and pulling out of the lot. 

Neither of you said anything, but you both wanted to. 

You could see it in the way his fingers flexed against the wheel and his jaw ticked. You could feel it in the way he wasn’t looking at you, almost like if he did, he’d say whatever it was that he was holding back. 

You wished he would. Part of you hoped it was what you wanted, too. 

Because over the last several months, Hotch had gone from a complete mystery to the one person in the world you cared the most about. 

You trusted him with your life and you were more than willing to risk yours if it meant saving his. He made you feel better by just being there, knowing just what to say or do when you needed him. You cherished the few weekends you’d spent with him and Jack, when you could pretend for just a little while that this was your life, that you weren’t bound by the bureau’s rules. 

Your thoughts about Hotch had long since moved past the fantasies of his hands on your body and his lips on yours in his office late at night or against the wall of one of the dive bars the team visited to blow off steam. It was more than that now. The more you got to know him, the more he became a fixture in your life, the more you wanted  _ him _ . All of him. You wanted to make him coffee in the morning and hold his hand and help him with Jack and fall asleep next to him at night. Every night. 

And part of you wondered if the reason Hotch was holding back, why he still seemed to be hiding something from you, was because he wanted all of those things too. 

But he was Hotch, and no matter how well you knew him, you’d never be able to know what was going on in his head. 

So you stayed silent, cuddling into the jacket wrapped around your shoulders as you looked out the window into the twilight. 

Hotch stuck close to you after you got out of the car, keeping a protective hand on your arm or back as you walked into your apartment building, rode the elevator up to your floor, and unlocked your door. 

He walked in with you, setting your go-bag on one end of the couch. 

“Are you hungry? You haven’t had anything to eat since before—” Hotch stopped, grimacing. “You haven’t eaten in a while.” 

“I’m not hungry.” You said, overly aware of the tender bruises on your stomach. 

“Okay,” Hotch nodded, glancing around your apartment as if searching for something to do that would help. 

“I think I’ll take a shower and go to bed.” You said, hating yourself for the words that came out of your mouth next. “You should probably go home.” 

Hotch’s jaw worked like he wanted to say something before he just nodded, resigned. “Right.” 

You took off his suit jacket, intending to hand it back. But the movement aggravated your sore muscles, making you wince. 

Hotch moved instinctively towards you, carefully helping you out of the oversized garment. He held the fabric in his hands, hesitating to step away from you again. Then he tossed the jacket over the back of a chair, taking another step towards you.

“Y/N, I–” Hotch scowled, looking away again before meeting your eyes. “I don’t feel right leaving you alone. You’re still hurt. You should have someone to look after you.” 

“I don’t want to keep you from Jack.” You said. “Really, Hotch, I’m–” 

“Don’t tell me you’re fine.” He said, an edge to his voice. “I know you’re not.” 

You quieted, unable to hold his gaze. He was right. You weren’t fine. The last thing you wanted was for him to leave, for you to be alone with your bruises and the unsub’s face haunting your thoughts. You wrapped your arms around yourself defensively, closing your eyes against the memories. 

You opened your eyes again as Hotch reached for you, gently taking your hands in his. He looked down at you, his expression soft but still unreadable. 

“Jessica is staying with Jack until tomorrow afternoon.” He said, and then smiled slightly. “He said I should make you soup so you feel better.

You smiled at that. “You’re raising a good kid, Hotch.”

He studied your face, letting go of your left hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Do you want me to stay?” 

“Yes,” You whispered, emotion clogging your throat. “Please.” 

“Okay.” He nodded, mouth softening into an almost-smile, nodding towards the bathroom. “Go take a shower. I’ll be right here if you need me.” 

“Thank you.” You said, squeezing his hand. 

Hotch squeezed back before letting go. “Of course.”

You showered quickly, scrubbing off as much dirt and dried blood as you could without pressing on the bruises too much. Being clean made you feel better, taking one of the first steps toward getting over the whole ordeal. You dressed in your comfiest clothes, your hair still drying as you padded out into the rest of the apartment. 

Hotch stood up from the couch the minute he saw you, moving closer. He’d taken off his tie, leaving it with his suit jacket. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone and he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. 

You forced yourself not to stare at his arms, meeting the deep amber of his eyes instead. 

“How do you feel?” He asked, studying you carefully. 

“Better.” You smiled softly before looking past him to the files he’d left on the couch. “Are you...um, do you need anything? There’s blankets and stuff in the closet. I can–” 

“No. I got it covered. It’s okay.” Hotch shook his head, “I’ll just be here if you need anything, okay? Anything.” 

“Okay.” You nodded. 

Feeling the heavy pull of sleep fighting the desire to stay with Hotch, you hesitated a moment. 

“Well,” You said awkwardly, shuffling towards your room. “Goodnight, Hotch.” 

He gazed at you softly with another almost-smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You shut the door behind you, letting your hand rest on the doorknob a moment longer as you considered walking right back out again. Letting go, you sighed and shuffled over to your bed, deciding to give into the exhaustion clouding your head. 

Laying down, you pulled the blankets tight against your body and rolled onto your side. You imagined you were laying against Hotch’s chest again, held in his comforting and protective embrace. It wasn’t the same, not even close, but you were tired enough that you were asleep again in minutes. 

You drifted for a while in a dreamless sleep, snatching maybe half an hour of rest before the nightmare took hold. 

It started like a normal dream. You were in the BAU headquarters, walking from your desk in the bullpen to Hotch’s office. Only when you reached it, the door opened into a forest path, the trail you’d taken in Colorado. 

Hotch stood in the middle of the path, several yards away from you. He stood straight and still, dark sunglasses covering his eyes and a scowl across his face. You walked toward him, but no matter how far you walked, he didn’t get any closer. 

Then, suddenly, you were right in front of him. Only it wasn’t Hotch anymore. 

The unsub grabbed your arms in a vice grip. You yelped, kicking him in the groin. He let go, doubling over and bellowing in pain and anger. You started to run, turning back the way you came, but he was faster. He knocked you down, flipping you onto your back and pinning you down. He punched you in the side and in the stomach before winding duct tape around your wrists, ankles, and over your mouth. 

Then he stood and grabbed your feet, dragging you off the path and into the woods. 

You twisted and struggled against your restraints, trying to scream. You yelled for him to stop, for someone to help, and you yelled for Hotch. But no sound came out of your mouth. 

Then you heard your name, sounding far away. You turned your head, looking frantically around to find the source of the sound. 

“Wake up,” It was Hotch, his voice even closer now. “You have to wake up.” 

Your eyes flew open, disoriented and afraid as you adjusted to the darkness of your bedroom. Hotch leaned over you, holding your hands down so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt yourself. Your chest heaved, your breathing beginning to calm as the panic receded. 

“Hey,” He said softly, letting go of your hands but still leaning over you, his palm pressing into the mattress, “There you are.”

“Hotch,” You breathed, reaching for him. 

You touched his shoulders, sliding your hands down to where his dress shirt was hanging open over his undershirt, letting the solid warmth of him confirm that he was really there. 

Hotch raised the hand not propping himself up, covering yours with his larger palm. He lifted your hand from his chest, softly kissing your fingers. 

“I’m right here.” He said. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.” 

“He–he was...I was back there and–” You gripped his shirt in your other hand, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“It was just a dream,” Hotch said, voice thick with sadness and anger. 

He lifted you up, pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around you, careful of your bruises. You buried your face in his shoulder, holding onto him like a lifeline. 

“It’s over now.” Hotch said, cradling the back of your head. “He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him.” 

You nodded against his shoulder. You took deep breath after deep breath, letting the smell of him and the warmth of his embrace calm you down again. 

“Please don’t go.” You turned your head against his shoulder to look at him. 

Hotch rested his forehead against yours. “I won’t.” 

He laid you gently back down before letting go of you with one arm so he could slide under the covers. You shifted, making room for him to lay on the bed beside you. Hotch wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you against his chest and tucking your head beneath his chin. 

“I’m right here,” He murmured, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “I’ve got you.” 

You exhaled, relaxing into him. You let your eyes fall closed, drifting off to sleep only a few minutes later. 

No more nightmares came, allowing you to sleep peacefully until morning. 

When you woke, sunlight was filtering through the gaps in your window blinds, sending shafts of golden light across the room. As you opened your eyes, you smiled softly at the sight before you. 

Hotch was asleep, his expression soft and peaceful. The worry was gone from his brow, the scowl wiped away from his face. He was beautiful, with every line and dimple and piece of short-cropped dark hair. His arm was still wrapped around your waist, keeping you close even in slumber. 

You carefully extricated your right arm from the blanket, lightly running your fingers over his cheek. He began to stir, a smile ghosting across his lips as he leaned into your touch. 

“Good morning,” Hotch hummed, his voice deliciously deep as he opened his eyes. 

“‘Morning,” You returned, gently brushing your fingers through his hair. “How did you sleep?” 

“I should be asking you that.” He rumbled, flexing his arm and pulling you to him. 

You met his gaze, your chest tightening as your noses brushed. He was so close, already touching you in so many ways, the smell and sight and warmth of him all around you. Hotch’s gaze sharpened, intent settling behind his eyes. 

He moved his hands to your waist suddenly, rolling you onto your back with him above you. His amber eyes were darker than usual, despite the morning light, his gaze flicking to your lips and back. 

“Tell me to stop.” He said, voice hoarse with barely held restraint, “Tell me to stop and I will. We’ll pretend it never happened. And I–I’ll never do this again.”

“Hotch,” Your hand found his cheek again, your thumb brushing his skin. “Kiss me.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. The moment the plea left your mouth, his lips were on yours, kissing you with an intensity you’d never experienced. You closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You drank each other in like you’d been wandering the desert for years, losing yourselves in the other’s touch. 

Finally, you broke apart for air, smiling breathlessly. 

“I have wanted that–” Hotch leaned in, kissing you again before leaning his forehead against yours. “For a long time.” 

“Me too.” You admitted, holding his face in your hands as you kissed him again. 

Hotch pulled back, searching your face. “Really?” 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a long time, Hotchner.” You smiled, “But I thought...” 

“What?” Hotch asked, ducking his head to leave a trail of kisses along your jaw. 

You breathed shakily, eyelids fluttering at the attention. “I thought you didn’t like me.” 

Hotch stilled, pulling back to stare at you in disbelief. “ _ What? _ ”

“Not...recently.” You amended, tracing your finger over his cheekbone, “But before, after I joined the team. I always felt like you didn’t trust me. Like you were holding back with me more than the others.” 

Hotch dropped his head to your chest, his hair tickling the underside of your chin. 

“Dammit.” He muttered into your collarbone. 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure you like me  _ now _ .” You teased, running your fingers through his hair again. 

Hotch lifted his head, looking at you. “I liked you then, too. I was just...being an idiot.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, because believe me I am  _ very _ grateful,” You kissed him to prove your point, “But what took so long?” 

Hotch sighed, his thumb brushing over your hip. 

“This is complicated. Us.” He said, a hint of his scowl coming back. “There are rules about relationships and even more about relationships between agents and their superiors. And I know that as much as I wanted this, your career is the one at risk. I didn’t want to put you in that position. I still don’t. But…” 

“But you want this.” You said, a slight question in your voice. “Us.” 

“I do.” Hotch said, meeting your gaze with complete sincerity. 

“Then we’ll figure it out.” You said. “We’ll make it work.”

Hotch smiled then, a real smile that made your heart race. He kissed you again, slow and sure. 

“We will.” He promised. 


End file.
